


Jet Black Hearts 3.01: Tamara

by voleuse



Series: Jet Black Hearts [45]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: Tamarastepped into the ruins and told herself it didn't hurt.
Series: Jet Black Hearts [45]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1979008
Kudos: 4





	Jet Black Hearts 3.01: Tamara

**Author's Note:**

> Set after 3.01, "The Magnificent Seven."

It had been months since Tamara had been back to the house. Months of sleeping in the back seat of the car. Of picking up shift work as a barback or a waitress. Of hasty exorcisms in church naves and boneyards.

Tamara realized, though, that she needed to stock up, and she couldn't exactly get an armful of wormwood branches using her tips from Denny's.

***

After Isaac and the Seven, Tamara hadn't even packed. She'd just grabbed one of her go-bags and gone. The fires had already been put out, after all, and the bodies needing burial were six deep.

So as she pulled up what served as the driveway, she got a full and proper view of the wreck. By some miracle (ha) the roof hadn't fallen in, but a good half a wall had been letting the air in. All the windows were broken and doors all torn from their hinges. A nest of raccoons had taken over the kitchen remnants; better them than her, Tamara supposed.

Luckily, the root cellar was still intact. Carefully, carefully, she boxed up charms and elixirs, belladonna and frog's bones. She tucked a braid of a _bean sidhe_ 's hair into a curse box. Collected a bouquet of sanctified acacia.

She stowed it all safely in the trunk alongside the weapons. (Never had she felt more alien than when she'd browsed the aisles of a Container Store.)

Then she took a deep breath and climbed her way up to the top floor of the house. Some of the steps were askew, but she managed to haul past the gaps with only a couple of touch-and-go moments.

The door to their bedroom was still closed. She walked up to it. Put her palm flat on the wood.

This, Tamara remembered in a rush, was where she had left her grief.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote about Tamara way back in the day, in [Surrendered Flags](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825). This might be tied to that one; I think I have the same version of Tamara in both.


End file.
